


a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss

by Del (goddessdel)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dom!Eleven, F/M, Fluff, POV River, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Del
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor’s voice is low against her ear, “Strip and lay face down on the bed.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a sigh, a cry, a hungry kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Megs and Becs for looking this over!
> 
> Title from "Closing Time" by Leonard Cohen.
> 
> This is actually the first DW fic I started writing, though obviously it took some time to go back to it. Unrepentantly PWP, with a bit of kinky lotion involved.

The Doctor’s voice is low against her ear, “Strip and lay face down on the bed.”

 

So, it is going to be one of those kinds of nights. She does so love it when he takes control. River does as requested, keeping her back to him without having to be asked. She can feel his eyes following her every movement. The Doctor likes to watch.

 

When she is naked, River settles herself face down, spread eagle on the comforter, eyes closed. She can hear him undressing and she resists the urge to turn and watch him. She loves the feeling of anticipation, crawling up her skin. River expects the cool snick of metal on her wrists, and is rather surprised to instead feel his hands gently kneading something soft into the skin of her shoulders. A massage? After all these years, she loves that the Doctor can still surprise her, completely and utterly. River chokes back a chuckle that soon turns into a moan as he works his way across her back.

 

Whatever he is doing, he isn’t leaving an inch of her body unexplored, running his hands and whatever else across her legs, the soles of her feet, back up to her bum.

 

The Doctor kneads his hands across her back and sides, smoothing something slick and soft into her skin until every swipe of his hands leaves her skin flushed and heated. He moves up to massage her scalp, mussing her curls probably beyond repair, but it feels so heavenly that River cannot even manage a word of protest.

 

After a long slow massage that leaves her soft and pliant and tight and aching all at the same time, the Doctor slides his hands under her body and rolls her over.

  
River blinks up lazily at him and finds the Doctor scooping something out of a jar and sliding his hands over her front with much the same thorough deliberation as he had her back.

 

He is buttering her up, as it were. Though it doesn’t feel like butter. With the Doctor, one never can be certain. It is a shimmery azure goop, thick and wet as it sinks into her skin like a moisturizer with a bit of a tingly kick. It certainly feels fabulous, but River can’t deny that she is quite curious as to what it actually is, as the Doctor scoops up handfuls out of a jar and methodically massages it into her skin.

 

He kneads his hands along her breasts, hips, stomach, thighs - lingering just long enough to earn a glare when he moves on - before running his hands along the front of her legs, calves, feet. River is just closing her eyes to bask in the teasing sensation when his hands start the reverse journey, coming to rest against her damp curls.

 

River’s eyes snap open in time to see him dip his fingers into the jar again before he is pressing them against her clit, his circular motions decidedly more deliberate. River moans but keeps her eyes locked on his hand - apparently he really is serious about not leaving an inch of her uncovered.

 

And when he covers two fingers in the moisturizer and begins to work them into her, River can’t suppress a whimper. His fingers slide in and out of her with the practiced ease of someone who knows her body inside and out, but there is an added tingle that she attributes to the moisturizer.  And it is glorious.

 

Whatever the Doctor’s plans are, he seems to be having a hard time containing himself. His lips are now trailing along her skin, pausing to lick and suck at her throat and collarbone before moving to lave at her breasts.

 

She gasps and flexes her inner muscles hard around his fingers, demanding. When the Doctor raises his eyes to hers with a muffled groan, his pupils are blown wide. It just encourages him though, bless him: stubborn idiot.

 

She can feel his grin against the skin of her breast in the second before he bites down, just as he adds a third finger and twists them up, pumping hard into her - just a bit rough - just the way she likes it. His thumb slips across her clit, pressing her through the lotion and the tingles ignite to hot liquid pleasure that shoots right through her to explode behind her eyelids.

 

She shatters with a scream and fights to catch her breath against the assault. The Doctor growls low in his throat and before River has any chance to recover at all, he is sliding down her body, pulling out his fingers and replacing them with his mouth. They both moan, and he is lapping her up like he can’t get enough of her.

 

He refuses to let up. To let her come down - slurping her up with a low moan that sounds so filthy it almost sends her careening right over the edge again. He licks her gently but thoroughly, sucking up every trace of her last orgasm as he carefully leads her into another. His fingers are vices against her hips.

 

River brings shaky hands down to grip and slide through his hair, nails dancing teasingly over his scalp. The Doctor whimpers and nudges his nose against her over-sensitive clit in retaliation, and River finds her hands turned to fists in his hair.

 

He's relentless in his mission, and River can do little but ride the rolling waves of pleasure. The Doctor knows her body too well, and the blue cream has set her nerve-endings alight, and the sounds he is making against her sex are too much to be borne - soft whimpers and delicious grunts and he is not going to give her a moment's respite - he is devouring her whole.

 

His nose bumps her clit again as he twists that long, talented tongue inside her. River shatters again with a cry that sounds suspiciously like his name, and tries to wiggle away.

 

The Doctor clamps his hands down on her thighs and holds her right where she is as he greedily sucks down her juices. Finally, he pulls his mouth away from her long enough to say whatever it is he's been mumbling into sensitive flesh. “You’re going to come for me, River Song, again and again and again. Until I’ve decided you’ve had enough.” His voice is low and firm with promise and his breath is hot against her clit.

 

It's hardly her fault – she is tingly and worked up and hearing his voice forming those words – River can feel herself teetering on the edge again already.

 

The Doctor wastes no time, alternating pressing his tongue against her clit and suckling greedily at her juices with that talented mouth, and River is thrown from the waves of one orgasm straight into the next. Her voice has a slightly scratchy edge as she screams out her releases, and she knows he's not even close to through with her.

 

On nights like this, he makes her scream until she is hoarse - her voice low and rough for days afterwards in a way that makes his eyes darken with lust the second any word leaves her mouth.

 

When he finally pulls back, licking his lips sinfully, to swallow every last trace of her, it is only to crawl up her body and snog her senseless with need.

 

River slides one hand down to wrap around his hard prick, swiping her thumb across the leaking slit. He groans against her mouth, his teeth closing to tug at her lower lip. River shivers, pumping her hand over the shaft once, twice - just to hear the strangled sound that catches in his throat and the way his teeth tug and nip harder at her.

 

He bats her hand away firmly, one of his hands pushing her thigh roughly out as he slides his cock over her sensitive folds, calculating the right angle. His other arm balances him above her just enough that she can still breathe under his weight, and River scrambles to dig her nails into his shoulder and arse, demanding more _right now, sweetie_.

 

She doesn't need to say the words aloud.

 

He slams into her as though he's been holding back since the moment he walked into the room - maybe he has - pulling away from her mouth to gasp and groan, head thrown back as he starts to move. River traces the flat of her tongue over his Adam's apple, closing her mouth over it just briefly before moving lower to sink her teeth into the soft skin of his collarbone.

 

The Doctor's hips slam against hers, his hand pushing her leg up by her ear, spreading her open further and pushing himself deeper with long, hard strokes as he pounds into her; pelvic bone grinding hard into her overwrought clit. She screams into the flesh of his shoulder, biting hard enough to draw up the tang of his blood.

 

He curses low in Gallifreyan as her body tightens around his cock, but he doesn’t lose his rhythm.

 

When River throws her head back to writhe against the sheets, nails urging him closer, harder, she catches the molten fire swimming in his gaze. It sends her right back to pieces as the Doctor grunts and slips her leg over his shoulder, bending over her to snog her with a sloppy meld of teeth and tongues that betrays his need.

 

River gives as good as she gets, nipping at his swollen lips with sharp teeth and sucking on his tongue. Her fingers move up to tug at his hair, her heel digging into his shoulder blade. " _Doctor,_ " she gasps against his lips, against the rising tide of pleasure tinged with just the sharp, sweet edge of pain. Her hips snap up in time with his, but her thighs wobble. Her voice cracks over his name.

 

His grip on her tightens, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh until she knows she'll have a bruise of his handprint etched into her skin for weeks. The thought makes her shiver. She wants to be reminded of this moment, this him, every time she sits on her bunk at Stormcage and mocks the guards, or leans against the console to flirt with a younger him.

 

"Just once more," his voice is low and coaxing, "come for me one more time, my River. Let me feel you, hot and slick and needy and pulsing around me." His voice is tortured, "The things you do to me, River. The things you let me do to you. My bad, bad girl."

 

He ends on a dark chuckle and that's all River ever really needs. He's talked her to orgasm before with just that low, rough tone, and she can hardly resist falling apart at his pleading - especially when he is pounding into her with long, forceful strokes that she can feel from her center shooting all through her body. He is filling her perfectly, and it's all a little too fast and rough and out of control, and he'd break a human like this, but she's not human, and she just wants _more_ of him, always.

 

He catches her screams with his mouth, hot and hungry over hers, stealing her breath away as his hips finally stutter into her. River clenches down harder around him with the waves of her orgasm, and he comes with a low, strangled sob into her mouth, collapsing over her in a sweaty, slick tangle of limbs.

 

They lay there like that, wrapped up in one another and fighting to catch their breaths against the roaring in their ears that drowns out even a sense of time.

 

When she regains the ability to move her limbs - still tingly and oddly weightless - River runs her hands soothingly along the cooling sweat at the Doctor's back, softening all the marks she's left across him. He nuzzles his face against her neck, pressing chaste kisses over her flaming skin.

 

Eventually he seems to realize that all his weight is pressing on top of her, and he scrambles awkwardly in an attempt to roll to the side. River just tightens her grip around him until he settles back into the hollow of her throat, one of his hands smoothing tangles out of her hair even though she's told him a million times that it only makes it _worse._

 

Judging by his grin against her pulse point, he knows exactly what she's thinking. But she can't deny that it feels lovely to have his large fingers carding softly through her hair, massaging her scalp.

 

Speaking of massages. "Well, sweetie, not that I'm complaining, but what was this all about?"

 

The Doctor runs the flat of his tongue across her pulse and River can't suppress the full body shiver that follows the motion. She can feel him smirking. "Oh River," his voice at her ear is dangerous, and she can feel both their bodies responding, "do you know what you taste like to me?" He chuckles again, his teeth tugging on her earlobe, and River closes her eyes and bites her own lip, hands stilling against his spine. "I have an excellent sense of taste, you know. I can pinpoint thousands of chemicals and materials and lives with a stripe of my tongue. But you - I can never pinpoint you, River Song." His voice is smooth, but his hand catches in her hair, clenching around her curls. "You taste like time itself, like the vortex outside. Like my future and my past and joy and agony and everything in between."

 

" _Doctor_ ," the moan slips out of her throat unbidden, and she cants her hips up until he slips into her easily again.

 

They move in a slow, unhurried rhythm, while his voice continues to trail slowly across her ear, his breaths hot and sharp between words. "I'm addicted to you, River. To the sounds you make, to the taste of your skin, to the flavor of you." He pauses to lick and suck on her neck, as though he cannot say the words without the actions, the rest of his words growled against her skin in an increasing litany of alternating filth and devotion.

 

River's hands scrabble for purchase on his slick back, her nails raking across him. She plants her feet firmly against the bed and cradles him between her thighs, their bodies rocking together more urgently.

 

She drags her right hand up to his hair, gripping and dragging him up for another messy kiss, shutting him up with her mouth. His hand clutches at her hair desperately as River rolls them over, hands scrambling and clinging to one another and bodies sliding slickly together.

 

When she pulls back to rise up on her knees, the Doctor's mouth is drawn instantly to her breasts as she rocks over him with long twists of her hips.

 

Their hands slide across one another, reaching and grasping, and the lotion is bleeding back out of her in midnight-blue drops as she gasps and writhes, watching the way the Doctor trembles under her.

 

She swipes one drop off his nipple, bringing it up to her mouth to wrap around her own digit. The flavor bursts across her tongue with such strength that she swears it has a color. And it's all him. All golden light and fire and ice and she can taste him so clearly that she shudders.

 

One of the Doctor's hands splays across her spine, urging her to arch back, as his lips close around one breast and his hand palms and pinches the other.

 

River arches herself into him, still seeing colors behind her eyelids, and the new angle rubs just so, and then it's all exploding light and stars in the sudden darkness. The Doctor stiffens under her and comes with a shout that she can barely hear over the ringing in her ears.

 

This time, when she comes down, the Doctor is cradling her to his chest. Pressing kisses to her brow and brushing her sweaty tangled mass of hair off her neck. River wiggles against him, sliding off to his side until she can pillow her head on his chest and trace the shallow wound on his shoulder apologetically with her fingertips.

 

They are both utterly sated and exhausted, flirting with the sleep that Time Lords don't really need.

 

The Doctor's voice rumbles, muffled into her hair, "Did you know that Aplan priests have quite active sex lives? Four heads are better than two, as the saying goes. After the incident with the giant Scorpions, well - I say Scorpions - have you ever met a Metatraxicellus?"

 

River slides her fingertips to trace over the outline of his left heart.

 

The Doctor swallows and refocuses, his hand squeezing her side briefly. "Right. So, they were very thankful, naturally, to not be left as Metatraxicellus fertilizer, and they offered me anything in the temple." His hand absently traces the curve of her waist and bum before coming to rest at her shoulder again. "Turns out that the Aplan hyacinth makes a potent sensory enhancer when mixed with starlight."

 

He laughs, genuinely pleased and still just a bit embarrassed, despite everything, "They practically forced it on me. Wouldn't take no for an answer. I think we've been to that temple before."

 

"Spoilers." River answers automatically, though it's soft and sleepy around her smile. Only the Doctor would end up with some sort of special sex moisturizer as a thank you present for saving a planet.

 

She doesn't remember this particular Aplan concoction, though there were plenty to choose from, as she quite fondly recalls. River considers that she owes the Aplan priests rather a debt of thanks. And possibly a new altar. She can't wait to defile it as well. "As soon as I can move again, Doctor, I'm going to butter you up and see how you taste." She muses deliberately, "I might have to tie you up though, to keep you still."

 

The Doctor chokes and sputters out, "River!" And River cracks open one eye to see the joy suffusing his as he smiles down at her anyway.

 

She fears her grin is far more soppy than wicked, but that is entirely his fault. She stifles a yawn, her body pressed against the cooling length of his. "Mmm. Later, sweetie. I wouldn't want to wear you out."

 

"Later," The Doctor agrees easily, shifting against her for a moment before the soft flutter of sheets drapes across them. "Go to sleep, River. There's plenty of time to debauch me later."

 

 


End file.
